


Phantom Pains

by RedTartanCurtains



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Angst, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2020-10-05 21:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTartanCurtains/pseuds/RedTartanCurtains
Summary: Anne Lister is becoming increasingly frustrated by Ann Walker over-exaggerating her aches and pains. During a particularly fraught week, she decides to stop coddling her wife and take a harsher approach. Surely, when Ann stops getting the sympathy and attention she so desperately desires, she'll stop pretending she's in pain?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, and it seems I have a thing for Anne being a little bit mean and then a whole lot nice as she comes to realise certain things. I hope you enjoy, let me know by way of comments if you do!

“Anne, wait!”

Anne Lister paused her purposeful march across the hills of Halifax. She tightly gripped her cane and clenched her jaw and ground her teeth. She listened for Ann Walker’s ridiculous panting behind her. It had been this way for the last hour. Actually, no. It had been this way for the last several days.

Ann Walker was in a piggish mood and she was doing everything in her power to slow her wife down, knowing that was one of the fastest ways to thoroughly infuriate her. Time was a precious commodity, and Anne Lister was an extremely busy person.

The building work at Shibden was intensifying and more and more of her time was needed to speak with the men and ensure they were carrying out their tasks. Not to mention the coal. She clenched her jaw tighter. The damned coal. It would all be worth it when it was done, she reminded herself.

“Anne, I can’t keep up if you’re going to be walking that fast.”

She slowly turned around and regarded her wife. She was making a great show of being out of breath, which she obviously couldn’t be considering the tiny incline they had walked up.

“I don’t know why you insisted on coming,” Anne sighed.

Ann leaned against a large rock. She plucked a linen handkerchief from her sleeve and dapped at her brow. Her other hand was firmly planted on her back and her apparently weakened spine, which only showed itself when Ann required some attention.

“Because I haven’t seen much of you this week,” Ann replied. “You’ve been very busy, or in York. Or down a mine.”

“Yes, well, you know I have a lot to do. We can’t all lounge around in bed until mid-morning.”

Ann’s eyes flashed with hurt. Anne looked away, avoiding the sight. It didn’t need to be said, even it was true. Ann Walker’s ability to remain in bed while the rest of the household was up and about was truly remarkable. Even her elderly father and aunt were up before this apparently young woman. 

“My spine has been painful lately, because of the weather,” Ann replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

But it wasn’t just the issue of her spine that vexed Anne. It was the various hysterical fits over the last several days. The distress at not being able to find a certain ribbon, the three-hour long mood over a missing pencil, the silent treatment that followed a simple conversation about politics. And those were just the tip of the iceberg. Ann Walker had proven to be thoroughly disagreeable over the last week and Anne was nearing the end of her patience.

To be fair, Ann had asked if she could accompany her that morning. Anne had thought that some fresh air and exercise might have been just what was required to shake her of her foul mood. But less than forty minutes into the walk, Ann had started to lag behind. 

Laziness, Anne had decided. She’d kept to her usual pace and forced Ann to keep up as best she could. Which she had done for a while, but then she started to lag behind more and more. Her breathing coming in ridiculously melodramatic pants.

Now she leaned against a rock as if it were the only thing holding her up. Anne shook her head and looked at her pocket watch. She was late for a meeting.

“Of course, I’m sorry,” she said without feeling. “As you are feeling unwell, I suggest you head back to Shibden.” She raised her cane and pointed back in the direction they had come.

“My back feels very weak,” Ann complained. “Could you come with me? And maybe apply the salve?”

Anne wasn’t about to be delayed any further, especially not when Ann was clearly attempting to gain the upper hand by feigning greater pain than she actually felt. 

“I’m already late for an important meeting.”

Ann’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she looked between Anne and the distant shadow that was Shibden. 

“If you set off now, you’ll be back within the hour,” Anne told her. “It will do you good, I’m sure.” She spun on her heel to leave.

“Anne! Wait!”

“I really must go, I’ll see you for dinner,” Anne called over her shoulder.

She didn’t look back. Truth be told, she was relieved to have some time to herself. They’d been married just five months and already she questioned whether she had made a wise choice. Yes, they had good times. But sometimes Ann acted like a child, especially when it came to her apparently failing health. Anne couldn’t understand how she would be holed up in their bedroom, complaining of all sorts of phantom pains. Especially when her father had recently been seen chasing Argus around the garden. It was frankly ridiculous that Ann played up to her imagined disabilities. 

“Well, no more,” Anne whispered to herself. “I’ll stop coddling her and hopefully that will mend her of this ridiculous behaviour. When she stops getting attention, there will be no need to continue with this charade.”


	2. Chapter 2

Anne strode across Shibden’s yard, undeterred by the heavy rain that was falling. The weather had taken a turn some hours ago and she was already completely wet through, hurrying beyond her usual pace now would be utterly pointless.

“Hello Argus,” she greeted as she stepped around the large dog. He’d moved from his usual location in the open space to the sheltered, narrow path that led to the main entrance. “Keeping busy as usual.”

She was late for dinner. 

No doubt Marian would be quietly seething. Ann would roll her eyes. Father probably wouldn’t notice, and dear Aunt Anne wouldn’t worry about a few minutes here or there. She’d be later still as she had to change out of her wet-through clothes, which meant she’d have to endure Marian’s comments on her timekeeping well into the evening.

She’d take that as it came, she wouldn’t let it bother her now. She’d had a wonderfully productive day. Once she had managed to cast Ann off during the morning walk, she’d quickly been able to run a number of errands, attend some meetings, undertake some business, and even make a social call or two. 

Her speed had picked up greatly once she was no longer slowed by Ann’s sluggish pace. She felt a little guilty for abandoning her and wondered what her punishment might be, if any, for her harsh words that morning. Not that there was anything she could do about it now. She stood by her words and her actions, if Ann disagreed then so be it. She’d happily endure some silent treatment; it would enable her to catch up on her reading.

She entered the door and marched along the hallway, knowing that she was dragging mug and water through the hall but also knowing there was little she could do about the matter. It wasn’t like she was going to disrobe in the hallway to save the servants a little mess.

As predicted, Marian appeared in the hallway. Her hands on her hips.

“You’re late,” she announced.

“Astute as ever, Marian, well done.” Anne turned and started to climb the stairs.

“And where are you going now?” Marian called after her.

“To get changed, I’m sure you don’t want me dripping over the dining table. I won’t be long, dine without me.” She stepped along the landing, eager to get dry now that the possibility of doing so was tantalisingly close. She hadn’t let herself worry about such things before, but now some warm, dry clothes sounded heavenly.

Marian called something up the stairs, but Anne couldn’t quite make it out.

She paused and let out a deep sigh. She leaned over the bannister rail and looked down at her sister.

“What?” She demanded.

“I asked where Miss Walker is,” Marian repeated.

Anne frowned. “Whatever do you mean? She’s here.”

Marian walked up a couple of steps, so she wasn’t craning her neck to have the conversation. “She isn’t here. She’s not been back since she left with you this morning. Is she not with you?”

Anne felt her heart sink and bile rise within. “No… she… are you sure she’s not here?”

Marian gave her a look and Anne shook her head. “Of course, you’re sure, what I mean is… you haven’t seen her at all today?”

“No. As I say, she left with you and that was that. We thought you were spending the day together. Was that not right?”

Needing to see for herself, Anne opened the door to the bedroom they shared. It was empty. Fear clawed at her. She walked around the landing again and started to descend the stairs, eager to see the dining room to confirm for herself that Ann wasn’t sat there eating the evening meal with her father and aunt. Hoping against hope that Marian was somehow mistaken. Even though she knew it was impossible. She brushed past Marian on the stairs and rushed into the dining room.

“Anne, whatever’s the matter?” Her aunt asked, a piece of bread inches from her lips.

“Have you seen An… Miss Walker?” Anne asked, panic lacing her tone.

“No. Not since breakfast, when she left with you.”

A large flash of lightning lit up the room. Anne’s eyes trailed up to look out of the window, she was barely able to see the courtyard for the heavy rain that was coming down in vicious sheets.

“Anne?” Her aunt questioned. 

“She… we decided she’d turn around and come back,” Anne explained. “We were halfway through the southern fields, she said she’d come back to Shibden because her back was painful.”

“I’ve been here all day,” Marian said, her voice gentle. “She didn’t come back here.”

Her father turned to Anne, “Could she have gone back to—”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s all locked up. The key is here. She couldn’t… She wouldn’t anyway. She… she should be here!”

“You say her back was hurting?” Marian asked. “Maybe she had an accident… we should get the servants and go and look for her. If she’s not here, then she’s out there.”

For the first time in her life, Anne Lister couldn’t react. She stood stock still and stared out of the window in panic. She heard the sound of Marian scurrying around, presumably to call for help. All Anne could do was stared at the rain falling down the window. Was Ann really still out there? Had she been out there for hours? Was the pain as bad as she said, and Anne had ignored her and left her there?

Her breath caught in her throat and she gasped as her lungs started to burn. Aunt Anne was on her feet and took her arm.

“She’s stronger than she looks, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Just go out there and bring her home,” she instructed. “We’ll prepare things here.”

Anne shakily nodded. John Booth was stood in the hallway, ready to accompany her out into the fields. She took a deep breath and nodded her head. “Right, John, let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

“We should check where you last saw her first,” John said.

“Of course,” Anne bit back, harshly.

The rain was falling thick and fast like tiny sharp needles that stung Anne’s face. Partly from the speed at which the small droplets fell, and partly from the pace at which she was walking into them. 

They were a couple of hours away from sunset, but the terrible weather had reduced visibility considerably. John was thankfully keeping pace with her despite the blistering speed she had adopted.

She hoped that Ann had simply become angry at being left behind and had gone to visit someone, deliberately not sending word in order to worry her. Or perhaps she had seen the dark clouds on the horizon and taken shelter? Either scenario was better than the one that was seared into Anne’s brain, that Ann had really been in as much pain as she had claimed. That she simply hadn’t been able to make it home.

“If I may, what was Miss Walker wearing this morning?” John asked, hesitancy in his tone.

“What?” Anne asked, irritation crawling into her tone. She didn’t have time for ridiculous questions, anything that slowed them down now was just wasting valuable time. 

“I was just wondering if maybe she was wearing a bright colour, one that we may see easily? From a distance, like,” John clarified.

Anne realised what he was asking and why and searched her memory. At first, she couldn’t recall; which vexed her terribly. Had she really been so preoccupied with business and nonsense that she hadn’t even bothered to take note? 

She scoured her memory, thinking of her morning routine. It started to come back to her, that morning she’d applied the salve to Ann’s back for a short while. When they were done, she lifted a pink dress and helped to fasten it in place. 

She remembered now how Ann had moaned in pain rather than pleasure as she applied the salve, something that she’d not done before. At the time, she’d thought she was overreacting. Now she cursed herself for it. Had Ann truly been suffering that much? Had she really not noticed?

“Pink,” she said. “She was wearing pink.”

“That will hopefully be easy to see, then,” John said carefully. “Although, I’m sure she’s not out in this. She’s probably gone to visit Mrs Priestly or something like that. Probably having such a good time that she lost track of time and forgot to send a note.”

Anne was fairly certain that she hadn’t. Eliza was still angry at Ann moving into Shibden without asking the family’s permission. Not to mention that the Priestley’s property was further away than Shibden.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “She… she said she was in pain with her back.” She waved her hand around distractedly. “I think she would have rather returned home. If she could.”

She only confessed it because she knew that John was one of the few people who wouldn’t be able to reply with a barb at her behaviour. 

“Ah, yes. She told me yesterday that she was suffering,” John confessed.

Anne stopped and turned to look at him in shock. The rain fell from the brim of her top hat, she blinked the water out of her eyes. “What? She… she told you? Why? Why would she do that?” Anne demanded.

John looked taken aback. “Well, I suppose it’s because she knew about my wife and the problems she had with her back.”

Anne frowned. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. She couldn’t believe that John Booth of all people had been discussing her wife’s health.

“Your wife?” Anne questioned.

“Yes, she had a weak spine, like Miss Walker. We spoke about it once or twice… I hope that was all right?” 

John was soaked through to the bone, his eyes darted nervously around the wet ground beneath them. He knew how particular Anne was when it came to the servants and he was clearly wondering if he had overstepped this time. But Anne couldn’t be angry at him, she knew he wouldn’t overstep. This was Ann reaching out to him, not the other way around.

Anne nodded. “Yes, yes… that’s fine. I just didn’t know you two discussed such things.”

She turned and continued her long strides along the fields, expecting him to catch up. Why was Ann talking to John Booth of all people? What on earth did she say to him that she couldn’t say to her own wife?

She grimaced because she knew the truth, deep down she knew that she’d been unfeeling towards Ann’s health concerns. Not getting any support from her, she’d naturally turned to someone else. And who wouldn’t turn to someone as sweet as John?

“Your wife,” Anne questioned, “she suffered the same?”

“Similar, yes,” John replied.

“How so?” Anne asked, her eye on the horizon as she scanned the distant fields for any trace of Ann.

“From when she was a child, she had trouble with her back. For her, it was the surrounding area at the lower back, either side of the spine. It became… stiff and very painful. I couldn’t understand it at first, but I could see in her eyes that she was suffering,” John explained. “The doctor couldn’t do anything. Sometimes, especially in the winter, it would get so bad that she could hardly stand.”

“You say you didn’t understand it at first?” Anne quizzed.

“Well… it’s hard to know when it isn’t your own body. I just thought she was exaggerating. But then I could see that it got worse in the winter, or when the cold came unexpected like.” 

Anne had naturally assumed that Ann’s problems were in her mind. She knew that Ann suffered from other phantom issues, and she’d assumed the problems in her back were much the same. Only now did she take the time to think that maybe they weren’t. 

“Miss Walker asked me to get a parcel for her,” John continued. “She said it was a salve for her back pain. That’s when we started to talk about it. My wife had used the same thing at one point when things got very bad and we had a little spare money for such things. Before all the girls.”

“Did it help?” Anne asked.

“No, I don’t think so. But she maintained that the feeling of having it applied did. So, we used to do that with oils instead. I don’t know if it helped but it soothed her some, so she said, anyway.”

Anne had read books about the art of massage, it had originated in China and Egypt and was still used in some places around the world. Not in England though, it was considered far too risqué. Though she had heard of someone in France who was practised in the art. She decided to get in touch with some people and see if she could learn more. Maybe she could learn more and help Ann with her pain.

If Ann would forgive her. 

If Ann was even alive.

Her breath caught at the unwanted thought which had bubbled to the surface without permission. 

“There!” John shouted. He pointed into the distance and set off at a haphazard run.

Anne frowned for a moment and then followed after him, her hand atop her hat as she picked a path through the field. For a larger man, he could certainly move when he wanted to and Anne found the gap between them growing and growing. It was with some horror that she realised they were approaching the rock that Ann had leaned on that morning. The exact location where they had gone their separate ways.

_No,_ Anne thought to herself, _the location where you left her and didn’t turn back._

**_“Anne! Wait!”_** Came flashing back to her. Ann had called to her, but she hadn’t turned around. She’d told her she’d see her at dinner, casually tossing the farewell over her shoulder. 

Now she wondered what she would have seen if she’d turned around. Was Ann in difficulty even then? Was the exhaustion not as put on as Anne had felt? 

John fell to his knees and Anne rushed to catch up to him. It was only a minute at most, but it felt like a lifetime. When she got there, Ann Walker was laying on the ground, her eyes closed, her skin white and clammy, her dress soaked through. 

John was taking off his overcoat and throwing it over her body.

“She’s breathing but it’s shallow,” he said, standing up and making way for her.

Anne fell to her knees, leaned over Ann and cupped her face. She was shocked by how cold she was.

“Ann? Ann? Can you hear me?”

“She must have been here for hours,” John said. 

Anne rubbed her thumbs along Ann’s cheeks, hoping to get some kind of indication that she wasn’t too late. 

“Ann? Come back to me, please, you hear?” She knew tears were falling down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. Whatever small amount of mental anguish she was feeling was nothing compared to what Ann had been through.

“I don’t think we should lift her, not if her back was bad,” John said. “We might make the damage much worse.”

Anne wiped at her tears and looked up at him. “What should we do?”

“I’ll go and get help,” John said. “We can get the cart down here, and then she’ll be laying down.”

Anne looked from him to Ann and then back. She nodded. “Okay, but hurry!”

He nodded and turned and sprinted back down the hill. She turned back to Ann and let out a heavy breath.

“Come on, my love,” she said. “Please, I need you. I need you, Ann.” She took off her great coat and laid it over John’s coat, hoping that the extra material would help. She knew that Ann was already soaked through to the bone and not a lot would help until she could get her back to Shibden, out of the wet clothes, and in front of a fire. 

“I’m sorry I left,” she sobbed. “I… I’ve been terrible. But I’ll be better. I’ll try to understand. I promise. I do, I promise.” 

She cupped Ann’s cold cheek with her hand and looked at her beautiful, tranquil features. She prayed that she’d get a second chance to make things right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to Fred06 who commented on this fic recently and asked me to finish it. It was the kick I needed.

Anne paced the hallway, striding up and down the stone floor. It was all she could do since she was banned from her own bedroom. 

“Anne, come and sit down,” her aunt suggested from her seat by the fire.

“No, thank you, aunt,” she said, continuing her pacing. 

Even the idea of sitting down caused frustration to bubble up inside her. It wasn’t a time to sit, it was a time for action.

Marian exiting the sitting room and stood in the middle of the hall with her hands on her hips, deliberately in her way.

“You’re not doing any good wearing a hole in the floor,” Marian explained.

“Well, I’m not allowed to do anything of actual use,” Anne spat back, still furious.

“Doctor Kenny doesn’t need you standing over him,” Marian chided. 

“Doesn’t he?” Anne asked. “Useless, odious, man.”

When John Booth had returned to Shibden for help, he’d explained the situation to Marian before getting his brother and the cart. By the time they had all returned to Shibden, Doctor Kenny had arrived at Marian’s request.

Thankfully, the usually pointless man had instructed her room be prepared with a warm fire, blankets, and more. He’d instructed John and Thomas to carry Ann with the utmost care to the room, Eugenie had undressed her and put her in fresh, warm, dry clothes. And then Anne had been banned from the room while Doctor Kenny tended to Ann.

“He knows what he is doing, and you were loitering and telling him what to do,” Marian said. 

Anne wanted to argue but knew it was true, and she was too exhausted to complain anymore. It wouldn’t do any good. Kenny had requested that she left and Marian had all but pushed her from the room. 

“What if she’s…” Anne trailed off, unable to say the word that scared her the most.

“She’s not,” Marian replied, knowing all too well how worried Anne was at the prospect of losing Ann so soon after finding her. “She’ll be okay. She’ll wake up soon and then we’ll all be here to watch over her.”

Anne ground her teeth. She hoped Marian was right. Seeing Ann so deathly pale, her eyes firmly closed and no signs of life had positively shaken her to the core. 

“Did she ever speak to you about her back pain?” Anne asked.

Marian nodded. “Now and then.”

Anne wanted to curse. Was she really the only person who Ann hadn’t confided in. She sagged against the wall. That wasn’t entirely true. Ann had confided in her, and then she had given up and sought out support and sympathy from others. Included at least her sister and a servant.

“It feels tighter in the morning, and when it’s cold,” Marian said.

There was something about Marian’s words that led Anne to believe she wasn’t simply relying words.

“You felt the tightness?” Anne queried gently.

Marian nodded. “Yes, you can feel the change right through the fabric of her dress and under garments. It’s quite pronounced, isn’t it?”

Anne had no idea. She’d blown the whole thing off as ridiculous and had given it very little thought. 

“Yes,” she lied. 

She would pen a letter to the masseuse that evening and have John send it first thing in the morning. If there was a physical reason for the pain, Anne would find it and do what she could to alleviate it. As well as apologise to Ann with all her heart and soul. How could she be so blind? So unfeeling?

She heard an upstairs door click and she rushed around Marian and up the stairs to see Doctor Kenny.

He had barely taken two steps away from the bedroom door when Anne appeared by his side, having sprinted and taking the steps two at a time.

“Well?” She demanded.

“Her heartbeat is strong,” he reassured. “I can detect no sign of physical injury, I believe she is simply exhausted. Not a surprise if she has been incapacitated in that terrible weather for so long. She needs rest. Warmth. And time.”

Anne could scarcely believe her luck. “She’ll… recover?”

“I see no reason why not,” he replied. “But she will need a lot of rest. Hot soup, nourishment. Of course, being in bed for so long will exacerbate the problem with her back. But it cannot be helped.”

Anne felt her cheeks heat in an embarrassed blush. Even pointless Doctor Kenny knew her wife better than she did. That was going to change

***

Ann opened her eyes and tilted her head to the side. Her mind felt a little fuzzy, she couldn’t place the day, or what she had been doing, or was going to do. She felt heavy with exhaustion. And warm, so very warm.

She lifted her arm and pushed the heavy blankets down her body.

A moment later, a hand reached out and put them back. Then the hand rested on her forehead, taking her temperature.

“Anne?” She croaked.

Anne came into view and looked down at her, concern etched on her face despite the smile. 

“Welcome back.”

“Back?”

“You’ve been unwell.” The side of the bed lowered as Anne perched on the edge. “How are you feeling?”

“Warm,” Ann said decisively and attempted to push the blankets off her again.

Anne frowned but allowed her this time. “Are you sure? You’ve been shivering.”

“I’m warm,” Ann said again. “I’ve been unwell?”

Anne’s jaw tensed. “Yes. For two days.”

She frowned, trying to remember… anything. Two days ago was a mystery, but so was a week ago, or more. Everything was just a big clump of confusion. 

“You…” Anne trailed off. “You were caught out in some particularly nasty weather.”

Ann furrowed her brow and thought on it. There was some form of a memory there, something trying to break through. 

“Your back was painful,” Anne continued. “We were walking together, but you… well, I suggested that you returned to Shibden. But, it seems, you didn’t. Couldn’t.”

It came back to her in a flash. The pain in her back, the sudden seizing up of her spine. Calling after Anne but not being heard, falling into a heap on the ground and willing the spasm to subside. Then it went hazy. Flashes of panic, cold, wet. 

“Oh,” she said, her voice a whisper. 

“Ann, I am so sorry. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me.”

“Whatever for?” 

“For leaving you there, for… for not listening to you. For being so caught up in my own business that I didn’t even stop for a moment to think about your illness.”

Ann took her wife’s hand in hers and held it as tightly as she could. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did,” Anne turned to face her, looking down at her with a face of absolute seriousness. “I heard you call for me, and I… I ignored you. I kept walking. Because I… oh, lord, this is hard…”

“Because you’re fed up with me,” Ann said, understanding precisely why Anne had been growing more and more distant lately.

“What? No. No! Of course not.” Anne squeezed her hand a little firmer. “I… didn’t understand the issues you were having with your back. I thought they were…”

“In my head.” Ann swallowed. She’d heard this before. Her parents, her brother, her sister, her friends. All of them pushed away any ailment she suffered as something made up. 

“Yes,” Anne admitted sadly. “But I realise that’s not the case now.”

“You do?” Ann looked up at her in surprise.

“Of course, you… you nearly died out there, Ann.” Her hand was gripped even tighter. “I thought I’d lost you, because of my foolishness. My idiocy.”

It was very unlike Anne Lister to refer to herself as an idiot, that made Ann realise just how worried she had been. 

“I promise you, things will be different,” Anne said. A tear had escaped the corner of her right eye. She didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in what she wanted to say. “I have written to some friends to ask about a treatment I think might help. Massaging the area, something I would gladly do. Gladly. And I heard of a new salve that we might try. We should keep looking until we find a solution, or at least a way to appropriately manage this. You shouldn’t have to suffer. I… I want to help, if… if you’ll let me?”

Ann loosened her grip and raised her hand to wipe away the tear that hung from a high cheekbone. She cupped Anne’s face in her hand. “Of course, my love.”

Anne let out a breath she’d been holding, a shudder taking hold of her body. Ann sat up and pulled her into her arms, holding her tightly.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Anne whispered into her hair.

“Never,” Ann replied softly. “Just listen to what I say and be there for me, that’s all I ask.”

Anne held her tightly. “That I will do, I promise.”

Ann held her wife, understanding that Anne had been on the edge of panic for the last two days, maybe longer, and needed to be comforted. She was relieved that things had finally been resolved between them, that Anne seemed to now understand that her pain was not in her mind, even though it could not be seen. 

“I love you,” Ann whispered.

“I love you, too,” Anne replied, holding her as if her life depended on it. Ann relaxed into it, thankful that she was alive and had someone in her life who understood her, even if it took her a while to finally get there.


End file.
